


Everybody's Gotta Live

by BlueLiliesStars



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkward Tim Drake, Awkwardness, Batfamily Angst (DCU), Gen, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic Relationships, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLiliesStars/pseuds/BlueLiliesStars
Summary: There is a new Joker running around Gothan's city streets.Some would say he was kinder than the current Prince of Crime, some would say that he is heartless.No one would know better than it than a simple student of Gotham's Academy: Timothy Jackson Drake.For he is the new reluctant Joker.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 21
Kudos: 79





	1. He Dreams He Is Awake

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story is inspired by a spanish fic called Timothy Jackson Drake, by DarthWayne.  
> I liked the idea of Tim being a Joker and some elements from it, so this would be a fic of a fic, mostly.  
> The story is on Wattpad and has been cancelled due to copy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the would be-Joker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fic inspired by "Timothy Jackson Drake" by Darth Wayne, in spanish.  
> I liked the idea of Tim being a Joker and some elements from it so I decided to make my own take on it. Hope you like it.

The night was cold when Timothy took his first breath of life on a long time. Or at least it felt like it had been a long time

In reality he was thirteen years old, an odd one at it, too.  
Too quiet and too scared of the shadows lurking, too understanding of the terrors and sorrows that bleed on Gotham's city streets for his parent's comfort. 

  
He dreamed with birds falling to their deaths since that night at the circus;he dreamed with a little birdie, a robin, take his first flight.

Janet Drake was put off by her own child.  
She had pictured how it would be, but not in her wildest dreams he would be like this.  
He looked most of the time like if life had been sucked out of his body.

Until that very night, a midsummer night when Timothy had followed the Batman's patrol.

A slip and Timothy had ended on the ground, he had fallen from a roof to his certain death just like the pretty birds on his dreams.  
He felt how his beating heart stoped 

And then, something happened.  
Life.  
Life entering his body two minutes after. A supernatural force healing the broken bones of his body, wounds closing.

Timothy Jackson Drake, adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, son of Batman found himself in another universe.

Waking up was like reliving every nightamre of a loneliness ridden mind.

A lonely awakening and a lonely excistence to match.

He couldn't recall what exactly had happened to him to end here. He rembers death and ashes, he could still smell the smelt of...brimstone and roses? what?.

None of it made sense, he thought as he slowly rised from the cold ground. He should be dead, he knew that much.

_Don't you know, child? Don't you remember what have you done?_

_You will wish you had._

He looked up and he saw the shadow of Batman flying, alone.

What? Where was Damian?

That was when he noticed a familiar camera falling from his neck and froze. This was his camera. This was from when he was from nine to twelve.

He looked down to his hands and confirmed the theory. He was a kid.

Time travel? but where was Robin? 

He was too tired for this, so he made his way to the bus stop that was close by and took a bus that left him closer to his house.

He looked through the window as familiar streets passed by, all of this was so detailed to be an hallucination or a dream. 

All of this was so familiar and foreing at the same time.

He stopped and when he left the bus, Carl, the usual driver, gave him another one of his suspicious looks as he waved goodbye at him.

His house was more impotent than he remembered, it was cold even though it was summer. It welcomed him in a way Wayne manor never could.

It welcomed him in the dark and it's quietness that Tim had resented before it became normal.

Not a sound was heard as he made his way through the halls, while looking at the different pieces his parents had brought from their trips as only signs of livelihood. 

He braced himself as he opened the door of his bedroom, it didn't looked like it was lived in, almost out of a catalogue of houses: pristine and spotless clean; for a brief moment he hated that room. 

It didn't felt like his. It felt too impersonal.

Another world, then. It was clear as crystal based on the lack of Robin memorabilia.

That didn't stoped to rub him wrong. Batman needed a Robin. Robin, was the one thing that grounded Bruce Wayne and his versions across the universes. To not have a Robin, he would lose himself on his quest and his sorrow.

Tim knew this. He knew it by heart.

And he knew it again as he looked through his alternative's self articles on Batman. He didn't liked not one bit what he saw.

He was slipping, a thug a little too bruised, two crooks with too many broken bones; there was too much strenght behind the hits. This was indeed a world without Robin.

Motivated, he took 'his' laptop and guessed the password, it was time for internet to do it's magic.

His eyes widened at the most recent articles. 

_"Gotham's city most eligible bachelor adopted a 12 years old kid"_ right next to a picture of one Jason Todd. That was a year ago.

Knowing Jason's bithday he must be thirteen, the same age of this body.

_So Jason is my age, then. That is good, if I talk with Bruce I can appeal at his empathy on that side._ He began to plan. _No, this Bruce never trained anyone, he probably didn't needed to develope the "I'm from another reality" code like my Bruce did._

_He wouldn't believe me._

His blue eyes strayed to Jason's picture and it amazed him how relaxed he looked in a photo taken a week ago; he was standing next to Bruce, both laughing and unawere of the camera capting that precious moment.

This was a Jason without Robin. A happy civilian Jason; Maybe this universe wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe it was his sentimental side speaking, but looking at this kid smiling freely, black hair in a attempt to tame it and shinig teal eyes he decided that he wass going to befriend the heck out of it.

_**HAHAHA, I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DO IT.** _

Tim's blood ran cold. _Wait, who are you?_ The voice had come from nowhere. It reminded him to when telepaths used their powers to comunicate. That wasn't good, was this an illusion?

**_I AM DEATH. DON'T YOU REMEMBER WHEN I BROUGHT YOU HERE?_ **

_You brough me here? Can I go home?_

**_I'M SORRY CHILD, BUT THE WORLD YOU CALL HOME IS GONE. DOOMED._ **

What? This couldn't be right. This must be a dream. He couldn't be alone, they couldn't be gone.

But then, he remembered.

He remebered how his family, his friends layed in the ground, all covered in injuries and pools of blood. He couldn't remember what exactly what had gone down, what had attacked to leave them like that. What he remebered was that with his dying breath he prayed for every entity of power he knew of, he prayed to gods and goddess he didn't believe in for a way out, for a better world.

**_NOW YOU REMEMBER._ **

_I do._ His voice sounded as weak as he felt as he fell with his knees on the ground. They were really gone. He broke down into crying 

**_CHILD, YOU HAVE THIS LIFE TO MAKE IT BETTER._ **

_How? I'm not a hero anymore._ And he didn't wanted to be. He just lost everybody.

**_YOU ASK TOO MANY QUESTIONS. BE YOU. BE WHOEVER TIM DRAKE IS NOW AND YOU'LL SEE. CARRY ON WITH YOUR PLANS._ **

_What kind of motivational bullshit is that?_

_Death! Don't ignore me!_

He stood up slowly, looking at his hands. He looked again at the picture and smiled weakly. He had lived once for them. He guessed he could live for him, for once.

He looked outside the window, the Gotham's night sky with skycrapers and it's lights painting a beautiful view.

This world will be his new home, he has to get used to it first.

There are two caskets in front of him.  
When he woke up he didn't really thought they where in that trip.

There are two caskets. One that shouldn't be there.

There was no one who could take care of Tim.  
The two caskets contained his only blood members.  
There where two caskets.

There where two empty caskets and Tim was alone.

He was dressed all in black, the materials were soft and rich.  
His mother would approve the casualness and elegance of it.  
His father would asked jokingly who had died by the grim expression on his face. But they weren't here.

There is two caskets in front of him and a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, kiddo" The voice. The voice was so familiar that it hurt to not respond immediately. The only thing stoping him to do so was the fact that the owner did not know him in here. "I'm so sorry for what happened with your parents. They were good people. If you need something, just ask."

What followed was a long pause.

Tim decided to look at the youthful and wrinkle free face of Bruce Wayne. He looked at him and in a petty splash he said with the ghost of a smile: "Don't apologize, mister Wayne. You couldn't have done anything"

He enjoyed as he flinched and let go his shoulder. Good.

"Just let me know if you need help,okay?"

"Okay. Thank you"

And with that he was gone. Probably to find Jason.

The two caskets were still there when he returned to look at them.  
Mocking him for his failures.  
Why couldn't he save them?  
He needed to begin training this body.

Batman needed a Robin but Timothy Drake needed a purpose.  
If he was going to live he was going to make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim, a dumbass: i'm going to take this amazingly good opportunity to fix things for people who don't know me :)
> 
> Death, somewhere: *sighs* this boy


	2. Holy Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets Jason.

_What are you expecting out all of this, child?_   
_Do you think you can save everybody. Please, don’t kid yourself._

  
The first thing he did after his parents died was to fake an uncle, to create an entire person to be under their ‘custody’.  
It was easier than the last time. It was more precise and with no loose ends.  
It was perfect. It even fooled Batman.

  
The second thing he did was enroll himself in Gotham’s Academy. Which brings him here, in front of the tall and intrincate gates of the school. He smiled widely as he saw it almost deserted at the time. Perfect. The sky above was cloudy and a pale sun hid behind the clouds, for Gotham it was a lovely day of fall.

The early raisers made their way to the inside of the imponent building which structure was a preserved gem of the architecture of Gotham. In their sleepy haze the other kids paid him no mind. He moved at ease and walked through the halls, idly wondering about his first class and how boring it would be.  
He passed the doors until he reached his classroom, slowly and quietly he opened the door and entered. It was empty. He choose very carefully his seat, close to the windows but in the back.

He was getting comfortable and leaving his stuff when someone entered the classroom. He looked up and all the time in the world could not prepare him to the sight of Jason Todd once again.

His breath hitched as the boy, busy in his own mind made his way to the back, very close from where Tim was. It wasn't until he reached the back that he noticed Tim.

  
"Holy fuck" Jason yelped "I didn't saw you there"

"Yeah" Tim muttered "That was kind of the idea." He flinched at that. It sounded bad "I mean, no that I'm hiding from you, I'm just, uh, chilling here"

_Chilling? Really?_

Jason didn't seem totally convinced but after his little rambling he looked at him with sympathy.

"Should you be here? Third grade is in the other building" He let out earnestly.  
And Tim. Just couldn't. Why? 

_Asshole._

"Asshole" He realized he had said it out loud when Jason's teal eyes widened. He couldn't back off now. No way. "I'm thirteen. Not nine."

"Whoa, whoa" _Please, don't shoot me_ Tim thought out of reflex. "I'm sensing a lot of aggressiveness, chill"

"That's hard" What the fuck, why suddenly I have no filter. "I have no chill" He says very seriously and hopes it can pass as a deadpan joke.

But Jason just smiles a sincere smile and says: "You're weird. I like you. Wanna be friends?"

  
Tim.exe. stoped working

  
"What? You just thought I was aggressive and that I'm nine!" Fuck his voice. He can't take himself seriously with this annoying voice.

  
"Yeah. But I know for a fact that small things are vicious, and you my friend, are so tiny" He said with emphasis in 'tiny'. What was with that reasoning? "Anyways. I know all of our classmates and are a bunch of dicks, so far you are the most sincere of them. Wanna be friends?"

  
Tim. Tim let out a little giggle. All of the time wasted planning how to befriend Jason and he only had to be him? You don't see that kind of bullshit on Gotham often. It was laughable, his mother would have laughed.

Then why he felt so good?

  
"Yeah" He finally breathed. "I would like that"

  
It felt like all that was worth it upon seeing a smile bloom in Jason's face.   
"Cool, now" Jason's expression became deadly serious "Brönte sisters or Jane Austen?"

  
"Oh my God, Jason. You can't just waltz around a _true_ heir and bother him with your stupid shit." Anger rushed like a flash in his inside. Tim turned to see the person who had talked and saw a boy with a perfect cut uniform and a lot of gel in his hair. "He is a Drake, street rat."

  
Tim turned again to see Jason and what he saw left him speechless.  
Jason was all tense, posture straight and clenched jaw. For an outsider it would have looked like if he was ready to fight, but for Tim it was clear that a fight was the least thing he wanted. He looked ready to fly away.

"I know who he is" Finally said to the stranger.

The boy just snorted in a sign of dismissal. "Then why did you thought he would like to talk to you, dummy?"

  
That's it. Tim wasn't dealing with more of this bullshit.

  
"Because he is cool" He interfered. "And not a bully and a better human being than you. You think you are the prince of this school? I know who you are Winston Evans. Your father made himself rich over blood money and rumor has it his funds are running low, so you are not in place to bother Jason with your classist bullshit."

  
Winston face could rival a tomato as he began to splutter something about: 'stupid new kid' and 'his honor'. But Tim had already tuned him out.

  
He then turned to Jason and said: "Jane Austen. Final answer"

  
Jason who had been silent during his mini speech beamed at him.

  
Winston finally gave up and went to the front of the class just as the classroom begun to be fill.  
"I'm not usually like that" Rushed Jason, once again anxious. "It's just...Bruce would be mad if he heard this happened again"

"Does this happen often?"

  
"Yeah, some teachers are convinced I start fights"

  
"And do you?"

  
"No" Smiled Jason. "I stop them. There are these group that like bullying the younger kids. Anyways, the teachers are convinced I'm just a troublemaker and the least I need is to get detention for something I didn't did"

  
Tim winced sympathetic. He could relate to being under a label no matter what evidence pointed out. "That sucks"

  
Jason snorted slightly.

  
"What? What did I did now?" Tim said defending. 

  
"Nothing. It's just you are so awkward."

"Thanks...?"

  
"It's not a bad thing" Jason rushed to say "And I'm making fun of you. Just thought all the rich kids were smooth for this stuff"

  
"I can be smooth!" He proclaimed. "I can be very smooth." As if Jason hadn't seen how he reduced that boy into practically tears.

  
"Whatever floats your boat, buddy" And Tim, honest to God puffed his cheeks.

  
"I don't like you very much" He lied smoothly.

  
"Liar" Called him out he other boy in a sing a song tone.

  
In that precise instant the teacher opened the door and the chattering around began to die.  
The teacher was an stern looking woman.

"Stand up students and salute." Said the raven haired woman, inspecting the classroom with a laser focus that was so like Bruce, ummm, she had the age to have been Bruce's school teacher. "Today we have a new student, please present yourself"

Shit.

He stood up slowly and cleared his throat. "Ummm, hello? My name is Timothy Drake and I'm thirteen. That's it"

The teacher arced her eyebrow in a judgemental way. Rude.

"Well, Timothy, I'm miss Caroline and I'll be your math teacher for the rest of the year." That said the teacher spun on her heels and began to write stuff in the whiteboard in a hurry. All of the kids sighed and began to copy it. Tim among them, followed by Jason.

Tim spent the rest of the class resolving math problems at a great speed while musing his though.

Jason spared him once in a while glances and made some funny faces that almost made Tim laugh. Almost.

He couldn't really forget everything that had happened in the other world. Couldn't allow himself to forget who he was. If he did, he would repeat history. For now he'll play the school kid role and relax a little.

Classes were over for the day and Tim couldn't feel more grateful. Being surrounded by actual middle schoolers when he is far older than them can be suffocating. They were so loud and carefree and so different to him in both lives that left him with a heaviness in his chest.

His steps didn't made a sound as he walked through the hallways, they were drowned by the chatter of people louder than Tim, like always.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" Said Jason gruffly. He obviously didn't enjoyed the fact that he had to chase after Tim.

"Nothing. It's just crowded places makes me angsty." True. It was the true, just not all of it.

"Gotcha" Jason didn't pressed further, which Tim was grateful for. "Hey, let me see your classes. I saw you in every single one of my classes."

Confession time: It wasn't a coincidence.

"Dude, you have all of my classes! That's crazy"

"It is kind of weird" He conceded.

"Anyway, want to hang out?" Jason asked eagerly. Oh, right, he wasn't Robin, he didn't had many friends.  
A piece of Tim broke when he recognized himself in the mixture of eagerness and nervousness in Jason's face.

"I would love that" Stupid. What if it goes wrong?

"Cool" All of Tim's thoughts died as he saw the content smile in the other boy's face. It made him look his age and not so worn out; it was miles away from Robin's signature smirk. Tim decided he liked better that smile.

"Great, so Alfie is probably waiting for me outside. Do you have to call someone?"

"No" What a depressing thing. "My uncle is traveling through Perú , currently. I doubt he would appreciate the interruption" It was easier to pretend that Tim's 'uncle' lived a similar lifestyle to his parents, and it was easier to lie about it.

A flash of concern graced the taller boy's face upon hearing those words, he pursed his lips in a deep frown. 

"Does he have a employee to take care of you or something?"

"No, I'm a big boy." He replies. Then he realizes what he said and splutters. "Forget what I said"

"A big boy?" Jason teases him, finally smiling again.

"I said forget it!"

The bastard laughs light hearted "I won't, but we really have to go outside, don't want to leave Alfie hangin' "

"Yeah"

They walked outside calmly in a comfortable silence. Tim looked around and left a small smile slip. He could see the trees leaves changing it's colors, what a beautiful day.

At the sight of the familiar black car that was waiting for them Tim's stomach did a sommersault. He was going to see Alfred!

There he was, clad in his impecable normal attire Alfred opened the back door in a fluid motion upon seeing them.

"Hi, Alfie!" Jason greeted enthusiastic. "This is my friend, Tim"

"Hello, Master Jason, young Timothy" Greeted Alfred with his british accent. Tim took a moment to look at the butler, his wrinkled face was one of the best things he had seen that week. "I'm Alfred Pennyworth"

"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth. It's a pleasure to meet you"

"The pleasure is all mine." Alfred smiled kindly. "Now, we can continue this conversation in the car, master Jason"

Jason nodded and both boys slipped in the back of the car.

Tim sat silently while Jason went on about his day to Alfred, who listened intently and made some humorous questions.

When they arrived to the manor Tim's breath hitched. The manor was there, in all it's glory as a display of wealth and power and it was still more home than any other place that Tim had visited. This was home.

Jason didn't wasted a second and began moving towards the door, he turned around to Tim with a curious look and a smile. "Yeah, I know it's a lot to take in, do you want to come inside? We can hang on my bedroom"

"Right" He shook his head. What was happening to him? Lately he has had the head in the clouds a lot. 

Jason seemed satisfied and got out of the car, closely followed by Tim.

The insides brought Tim a wave of bittersweet memories, delicate crowning his sad life. He saw the chandelier where Dick had balanced himself, the wall where it where it used to hang a family picture of all of his siblings; The absence of little marks in the walls were telling, vases that were broken laid unbroken and beautiful and it's saddened Tim's very core.

Not wanting to fall in the rabbit hole that were his memories he focused his gaze in Jason, who was walking, following the path that Tim knew it was to his bedroom. 

They stopped outside of a bedroom with a plaque that read "Jason". His companion opened the door and with a gracious gesture invited him to go inside. 

The room was clean and tidy, a bookcase using one complete wall and for what he could tell it was organized by genre. He saw posters with famous quotes hanging in the walls. It all felt like Jason.

"Hey, so, what stuff do you like" Asked Jason from the spot in his bed where he sat. He sounded a little awkward and honestly Tim could relate.

Tim just stood awkwardly while trying to figure out if that meant he could sit in the bed or he was meant to sit anywhere else. "I like Batman" He muttered.

He saw how the corner of Jason's mouth twitched. "Batman is lame. Wonder Woman is the real hero"

"While I respect the heck out of Wonder Woman, I appreciate the fact that Batman is your average Joe"

A snort was the reply and he could see in Jason's eyes amusement. "Do you always speak like a scholar or what?"

"Depends. Thanks for coming to my TED talk" He joked lamely.

"You're a dork"

"Did you just noticed?"

"Yeah, I was distracted looking at you as a tiny kid"

"I'm not a kid!"

"Keep saying that, maybe you won't make it into adulthood" He laughs before freezing.

"Now that's morbid" Jason looked at the other side.

"Sorry, still getting used to be around protected rich kids" He said sheepishly. Then, his eyes widened with alarm and his shoulders tensed. "Not that you are bad. Or don't know danger, it's not what I'm saying."

Tim just let a soft smile appear on his face to ease him. "I know what you meant" He let Jason took a better look at him, showing him how relaxed his body language was. It was instantly, Jason's shoulders relaxed and a small and tentative smile was born.

It was in that moment that the door flew open. It was none less than Bruce Wayne, who was smiling widely when his eyes met Tim's. "Jason! You have a friend over" 

Umph, he looked happy to see him here. Happier than he ever was to see Tim, a bitter part of Tim whispered.

On the outside Tim was hunching awkwardly, this time the awkwardness fake, and was looking at Jason as if waiting for something.

"Right" Jason said happily "Bruce, this is Timmy. Timmy, this is Bruce"

"My name isn't Timmy!"

"Nope, it's tiny Timmy"

Bruce just laughed, the bastard.

"I just came to tell you, Jason, that dinner is served." He turned to look at Tim like if he was analyzing him, for some reason that look was the pure Bat. "Of course you can stay."

With an ache in his chest and a smile on his face he replied an otherwise cheerly "Sure"

And he stayed every evening for a very long time until two tragedies struck.

The first tragedy was somewhat easier to talk to. It was something that he hadn't seen coming and came so soon and so quick that Tim barely had time to process how many changes it brought.

The first tragedy was his own torture at the hand of Joker.

He barely remembers anything but pain, his world collapsing upon itself, shifting and changing into a shape that he couldn't quite recognize. It wasn't planned, he thought in the floor of the warehouse where he was.

It wasn't supposed to happen, he thought as the Joker cupped his face, looking at him almost humanly. A monstrous gracing his lips revealing what he really was.

But he wouldn't kill him, he didn't killed him. He stayed with him for a week, a week was all it took. He would sometimes babble about jokes, he would tell him his evil deeds, he would make Tim see him as a nightmare, he would make him look at him and see an eldritch horror instead of a man.

Joker would sing to him lullabies and Harley would join him. Together they sang about love, death and destruction.

Harley looked at him with so much sorrow that Tim couldn't look at her in the eye.

"Don't you see, darling?" She had whispered while cradling his head "He is now your maker and I'm now your mother"

No, you are not. He didn't said anything; Time had shown him that it wasn't the safest course of action to upset your captors and he was too weak to speak anyways. She would tend his wounds, she would babble about Gotham and tell him stories about Ivy and Selina; she was nice, she was a prisoner too. She reminded him of a butterfly, a butterfly trapped in a jar by a greedy boy who wanted to own something beautiful. 

Days and nights passed and he counted them. He counted every single one in hopes of a miracle, in hopes that somebody, that Jason would notice, that he was gone.

It passed a week and Joker decided he had enough.

He smiled at him crazed and kissed him in the forehead as he said "Mine" in the same way his mother had told him and, he, in his first live had thought it was her way to say "I love you".

_Mine. My own, my blood, my thoughts, my heart. Mine._

He thought he might have died in that instant. He thought a million things at once. He might have died in reality, if there was only one.

He was trapped in realities until he was not. He didn't wanted to even think about it. He didn't wanted to think about the implications. 

Here he was, outside the warehouse at last, breathing the polluted air of Gotham and rejoicing in small mercies. Nothing could have prepared for what come next.

On April the first, exactly one week after his capture and nearly a year after his awakening, Jason Todd died. He might have not known right away, he might not have been there to know, but there was a certain wrongness in the air. He was lying in his bed at Drake manor after the adventure of getting back at his house and he knew instantly that he had failed. He mourned long before it was released to the public the fact that Joker had slit the throat of the son of Gotham's favorite playboy.

He avoided like a plague the morbid videos that leaked afterwards. He cursed in every language he knew and cried every tear he had left.

When it was over the only thing he could feel was a certain emptiness and the knowledge that his life was a cosmic joke. 

So he laughed. He laughed while he cried, no matter what they told you later on, he laughed as he fell in that dark hole.

But, people forgot he was human too.

_How are you so naive? You are human no more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup, I finally updated. 
> 
> me while writing this: this is serious, this is serious  
> also me: slips some musicals references YOLO


	3. Smile Through Your Fear And Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tries and fails to cope. A certain person asks him for a favor.

If there was something he was NOT right now was happy.

Happiness has avoided him like a plague since he can remember; happiness has always been a fickle mistress by that matter but for as long as he has lived he has been chasing after it, and if he couldn't run, he crawled just to feel it's warmth in other people.

The few months he shared with Jason, being Jason's friend had been the happiest he had been in a long time. He had laughed and smiled so lightly and so freely that the mere memory of it made his heart ache. It was weird to be around people again after the hell of a week. It was weird to be without Jason. Jason was gone, gone in a flash and ripped away from him cruelly. Ripped from his family's arms and killed merciless, Tim's heart shattered in million pieces by losing him, too.

What Joker had done was another proof of the monster he was. A monster that won't be stopped until someone had the courage to end him. He wishes he could make it, but he also wanted so many things that it hurt. He wanted to turn his selfishness into something useful, use that craving to make people's lives better. He smiled slightly at the thought, what a silly thought.

A week had passed since Jason's...death. (Honestly, he secretly hoped it was all a dream. He hoped for Jason to return miraculously and without the rage's pit.) And he had thought a lot of silly thoughts since then. It didn't help that nothing noteworthy had took place. The same petty things and crimes, the same spiral of darkness had consumed Bruce once again. It really felt like a rip-off of his life.

Which takes him to this moment. Him being interrogated by Bruce.

"Are you sure you are okay, Tim?" Under his eyes prominent bags were displayed, his voice hoarse for screaming so much and small cuts in his hands from shattered glass; Bruce Wayne was the image of good mental health.

"Yes, Mr Bruce." He replied mechanically while ducking his gaze. He purposely left his body speak in volumes of his true feelings. "I'm as good as you are"

He left Bruce squirm a little. Good. Bruce should be taking better care of himself.

 _It's not like I am any better._ He allowed himself to think. It was real weird, his mind still reeling about his own kidnapping.

"I see" The man muttered sadly. His eyes full of dispair softened when he took Tim's chin and forced him to look at him in the eyes. "You are always welcome. You were Jason's best friend, you don't have to ask for permission."

This wasn't taking the direction he wanted. He carefully pulled apart Bruce's hand, setting himself free.

"Thank you, Mr Bruce, you are too kind" He kept his voice cool and closed off the expression on his face, bottleling his emotions deep inside. "But I would feel like I'm intruding"

Bruce shook his head and for a moment Tim saw Alfred behind him with a matching sorrowful expression. "You would never be intruding. I just...thought we could talk a little. Therapists recommend it"

Tim supresses the urge to snort. He finds highly amusing that for once in his life he was actually listening to professionals.

He only nods and to fakes a weak smile on his face to mask his true feelings. No doubt that it was convincing by the way Bruce looked at him with so much sadness. He remains on his seat and drinks some of his tea that has gone cold.

Bruce opens his mouth to speak but no noise comes out. He closes it and rans a hand into his hair, looking with every passing second more like the emotional wreck that he was. He closes his eyes and exhales. "Jason was very dear to me. So are you...please let me help you"

 _Help me?_ Tim repeats on his mind. _Help me?_

_You could have helped me, a long time ago when there were still parts of me that believed in your cause._

On the outside he smiles, it's a small and fragile smile, his icy blue eyes still full of sadness and his leg bouncing. Bruce looks at him and sees a kid who is too used to mourn and he vows quietly as rain falls that he would take care of him.

"You can come whenever you like it" He tells Tim with a soft yet hoarse voice "Alfred would love to have you"

No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't like the loneliness and hopelessness that radiated from him, he wouldn't like to see that bright little boy turned into something darker, into someone like Bruce who let his demons consume him and use him as a puppet. Bruce might fool himself with the thought that he used his demons as a driving force but it was the other way instead and Tim knew this.

But the Tim of this world couldn't know any of this so he says: "Then I would love to visit"

Bruce does not smile. He nods lightly in acknowledgement and in his eyes there is appreciation, nothing else. It's good enough for Tim.

He hesitates for an instant, arms folded, then Tim sighs and unfolds them and slowly he closes the distance with a brief hug.

"Take care, Mr Bruce" He mutters and leaves.

He leaves a grieving man behind with a little lighter than before, still with a rock oppresing his chest but with the new knowledge that he was not alone. Alfred, Tim and Bruce will grieve for the boy that no one would grieve because everyone is grieving for a Wayne, not Jason.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tim wakes up in the dark again.

Tim wakes up again and again.

Tim wakes up in a place his never been and when he stares at himself at the mirror he sees Joker's mad eyes instead of his own.

Tim wakes up once again in a world where he didn't belong in the most literal sense.

Though, he doesn't really know if he wakes up at all most days. Most days he feels like if he was dead. He pretends he is dead when he is in the kitchen with Alfred. He keeps pretending when he speaks with Bruce. He distracts himself with the idea that everything is a bad dream, that the dead and destruction he remembers is a nightmare.

He knows he is alive when he follows Bruce in the night. He follows him quietly like a shadow and sees him beating the bad out of people. He knows he is alive because that violence couldn't be imaginated, because the movements are so familiar, because he has practiced those same moves in the protection of his house and his body remembers it. Tim doesn't know how, doesn't want to really know.

He just wants to trow every single one of his problems into a burning pile. To see them burn and feel warmth with the fire licking his body.

Then he wakes up.

He tries to change, of course he does. The days he is awake, the days he is alive he spends them reading every paper and psychology book and tries to fit the descriptions on. He doesn't find any. He then calls it The Melpomene syndrome. He feels temped to call it the Drake syndrome for his mother's sake, he decides against it for his father's.

It's a day when he feels both awake and alive when it happens.

"Hello, kiddo. Not a hello for your mamma?" Harley says as she slips for his window. She is dressed rater warmer than normally, there is a faux fur purple coat and a good pair of boots, her blonde hair is hiding under a beanie. She looks weird. The one thing it hasn't changed it's the dyed tips of her hair.

He stares at her, then he looks what she is clutching and the pieces fall together. She is clutching a baby's pacifier. When she notices that he knows she smiles. It's a sad smile. "Yeah, four months now. Don't think my puddin' has noticed, ya know"

"It's better if it stays like it" She says in a tone of secret, a weak smile trembling on her lips. "H-he would kill them if he knew"

Harley breaks down into a fit of crying. "God, I'm pathetic. Asking for help to a little kid."

"I'm not a kid" He replies weakly not believing what life has come to be.

She looks at him straight in the eyes "Yes you are"

And for a moment, he allows himself to be a kid and cry. The Gotham's wind swallowing the sound of a kid's tears with delight.

Harley approaches and hugs him, he lets her even knowing he could fight her. They stay like that for a while. In that time Harley inspects the bedroom. It was a good size, nice looking but the walls were all bare, there were a few textbooks and some little touches there and there but overall it didn't seem lived in; it looks all weird. She can't say she likes it, it needs more of a soul.

"I'm so scared" He confesses in a low voice.

"I know...pudding, I know"

"I've...I've been having these dreams. I see everyone I love dying. I see myself going crazy" He separates himself from Harley and looked at her straight in the eyes. "Am I going crazy?"

Harley looked at his eyes, she really looked into that pair of steel blue eyes and answered. "All I see you is crying, grieving; there is nothing to worry about"

He abruptly took a step away from her, fury in his face. "Then why I feel this way? Why I feel like every time I'm awake I'm slipping"

She kisses his forehead. "Kid, I don't know what made you this way, but it must have been hell. I don't know how to ease your pain, right now I just know that you are strong. You have seen and survived shit. I think you might be stronger than me."

"You are also a survivor" He says with conviction. "He could have destroyed all of you, but you have fight back."

"It doesn't matter" She replies bitterly, raising her voice and looking at him with glassy eyes. She purses her red lips and repeats. "It doesn't matter"

"It does to me"

She smiles and hugs him. "You're too good with me. Now I feel really bad for bringing you into this"

"You didn't" It was true, he brought this upon himself again and again.

"I did it the day I didn't stop him, Tim. You can't deny it"

He decides to change the subject quickly. He shouldn't have break down, goddamnit. He was stronger than this. "What are you gonna do?"

"Don't know yet"

"Stay" Tim might have not had time to think about it, but goddamnit, he was going to help her. "I know you burned your bridge with Poison Ivy, so stay"

She hesitates, breath shaky and exhales. "I need somewhere safe for my baby. Is your rich boy mansion going to provide safety?"

"Perhaps no. But I know who can."

Contacting the Devil's Head shouldn't be this easy, but he wasn't complaining.

After hacking the main system of the Batcomputer (that is was in an incredible pitiful state) he began to filter all the mentions of Ra's and last sightings.

If his knowledge about the inmortal is correct, then he might be in the shadows waiting. Waiting for what? He doesn't know, he might ask him himself.

He decides against his better instincts to invite this unsavory character into his house. He leaves a carefully made message in Ra's mother tongue, a language that might have died if not for Ra's, to meet him in his house. If he was meeting the Devil's head he better have the upper hand, even if it's just geographically.

Harley hasn't come in since that night a week ago, she had gone to her sister's house for a while until Tim settled everything up.

It was five minutes to midnight and Tim sat in a velvet chair, trying to ignore the fact that he might look like a junior James Bond villain in his lair. He smiled when he heard a crash into the windows and the glass flied everywhere. Luckily the chair he was in it was the furthest to the glass storm.

From outside emerged three ninjas and Tim could just arch his eyebrow at the sight of Ra's coming through the window, looking all regal and graceful as always.

Honestly? Fuck this guy.

"Three ninjas? Three, Ra's? I'm wounded." He pouts. Because he wants and he is a kid. Sort of.

"Too much for you, little Drake?"

"Too much for my pride, it's my pride that is wounded."

Ra's sits in the chair that Tim left for him, a bright emerald one just the same shade as his robes. "Why would be a kid playing this game?"

"For the same reason you haven't taken over the world yet"

Recognition flashes through the older man eyes. "Ah, boredom I see."

"Glad to hear you admit it"

"Life got boring after so much war." Ra's offers.

"I thought you might be entrained by so much blood"

"No, I'm more impressed by strategies more than the kill count. As much as I don't doubt your skills as a conversationalist, I think I was brought here for something far more concrete than a counseling session"

"That's true. Someone needs help."

"That's not my area of expertice and people always need help, it's exahusting"

"I'm aware it's not your usual scene. But what if I told you it's Harley Quinn the one that needs help?"

Ra's leans a little closer and smiles. "Oh? What does Miss Quinn needs help for?"

"She needs protection from the Joker"

"A lover's quarrel?"

"She plans on leaving him"

"I've heard that story before"

"She is pregnant" He finally admits.

A spark of interest appears on the older male jade eyes. "Now, that is a game changer. What makes you think I'm the best choice for that?"

"You have bases, money, influence and you're not scared of him"

"Let me rephrase. What makes you think I will help her?"

"Because I offer a trade. That's why you are here for."

"I admit you have my attention, but what could you possibly offer, Timothy Drake?"

"Myself" He proclaims and watches as Ra's laughs.

"I don't see use of something so fragile like yourself." Mirth audible in his voice.

"May your head by as sharp as your blade, Ra's Al Ghul. You might need it for future wars and the world shall bend for you"

Something flickers in his eyes. "Now, how do you know that phrase?"

"You told me about yourself, in another universe. You told me about your wife, your star. And about your child, your firstborn."

The old man laughs bitterly and in the moonlight he looks hauntingly like Blue Beard in the books looks. Tim steadies his breath.

"I've had enough wives to form a constellation, I'm afraid."

"You call them stars because they're fragile and unstable as them"

"True." The detachment was evident, he needed to bring the bigger guns.

"I know about Damian"

Ra's expression remained the same, no evidence of what was said it was truth, he probably thought he could discorauge him. When neither of them said anything for a minute he opened his mouth and moutherd. "How?"

"I already told you"

"So you're telling the truth."

"We already established that, keep up."

"You are such a brat"

"Not more than your grandson"

"Damian is young, he'll grow out of it. It seems there is not hope for you to do the same."

"No, I already grew up."

The inmortal just eyed him curiously. "So it seems. How do you offer yourself?"

He had spent all this time planning in saying these words, he needed to be clear and leave no room for misunderstandings or loopholes. "I offer my mind and my body to your cause, I offer myself as a teacher to your heir and I offer myself as a spy in Gotham."

"That simply won't do. I don't want you to be like the rest of my league."

"What?"

Ra's leans closer. "Aren't you the kid tortured by Joker?"

Tim didn't reply. There was no need to, the older man would understand anyways.

"You have...a twinkle in your eyes. Madness, let's call it. It's similar to what Joker has."

"He and I aren't similar, he is a monster"

"And what are humans, truly? Humans do monstruous things and dare to call themselves better than beasts."

"This isn't about humanity"

"It isn't" He concedes. "It's about you. You and your traitorous mind. Don't even try to deny it, I have seen the look of a man who has begin to doubt their sanity and you, my little friend, are slipping."

Tim breaths in a shaky breath and exhales. "Then what do you from me?"

"Be my Joker"

"What?"

"Be my Joker"

"No, never."

"You wouldn't be like him. You could be more than him" Ra's promises.

"I don't want to be him!"

"No, you are Timothy Drake. The Joker who cries instead of laugh. The boy gone too soon."

That. That phrase reminds him of Jason and fury swells him. "I'm not Joker's major victim!"

"No, but he is your maker."

"That's not true."

"Then why you're changing?"

"It's the trauma" He argues. But he knew that a human could just take so much. He had his other's life trauma and now this one, he felt like if this one might be the last drop. "It might be..."

Ra's stands up and kneels before him, cupping his cheek with his hand and drying the tears falling from Tim's cheeks. "You have so much to learn, I can't stop the process but I can teach you to control it."

"How could you help me?" He chokes out.

Those green eyes that stared by at him were not human at all. They were the exact same color of the pools of the Lazarus Pit. "I know about madness. I have seen countless of people bathing on the waters and tasting life again just to realize they have lost their mind. Your case is different, of course, your descending is gradual." He explains carefully. "You will not rise as you. You will raise as someone else."

"And who might that be?"

"Someone great who will make me proud." He caressed his cheek with such tenderness that Tim hadn't felt since Bruce, that made him want to cry again. He had said all the right words after all, he was gentle and straightforward and not hiding that he might use him that made him suspicious. In that moment he couldn't care less, he just wanted someone by his side.

So he said yes.

_Foolish boy, did you do a deal with the devil? Was it worth it? You know you will never be the same._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Timothy Jackson Drake was very obviously falling into insanity if you knew the signs to look for. Something that Ra's had trained himself to recognize since his own son fall to insanity. (If he was more sentimental he would shed a tear for that beautiful boy that had been his son and how horribly hollow he had become after the pit, but he wasn't, years and years of being alive stripping him of the normalcy of little sentimentalisms.)

He was Ra's Al Ghul, the living proof that humanity eventually disappears until it leaves nothing but a ruthless mind if given the opportunity. Yet, this boy no older than thirteen sparked in him curiosity that he had not felt since a young Bruce Wayne sought for his help. Yes, this boy will become someone to reckon. And Ra's is selfish, really. He wants to be part of his merits, he wants to be able to proclaim him as part of his hard work. So he does what he does best and he lays a spider web at his feet.

He rebutts his arguments when he refuses, he gives clever insight, he plays with his heartstrings and manipulates him into accepting. Should he be ashamed? He knows no shame. He only knows that he needs to keep him close, close enough to asphyx him, close enough to sing to him lullabies while sharpening his knife. He always fancied himself as someone akin to Genghis Khan, taking everything people had to offer and ending them if they weren't his.

This boy was his now.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Again!" Shouted his trainer as he rose from the ground. It had been at least three months since Timothy Drake was withdrawn from school to homeschooling by his 'apprensive uncle' and since he made a deal with the Demon's head. He wasn't bothered by the brutal training, in fact, he almost craved it.

His body welcomed the pain that it brought and the familiarity of it. It was a twisted way to come home and Tim was beginning to think that it was that thing that people saw as similar to the Joker.

He was still getting used to the idea of them as parallels instead of perpendicular cutting each other.

Harley, as promised, was taken and safely tucked in some safe house by Ra's people after she sneaked out of Joker's grasp. So, it was only fair to begin to fulfill his part of the deal.

Ra's wasn't the one who was in charge of his training, instead leaving people Tim had never met to train him. There was Nyssa Al Ghul, notoriously. Who didn't pull her punches and pushed him to the limit, teaching him the way of the league. He had to admit that he kinda liked her, she was a good teacher. There was Raymond Frederick who taught him all about the League's contacts and about the current state of the underworld at global level (things that Tim had been busy to look up more than the basics.) And lastly he was surprised when he saw his old teacher, Lady Shiva.

She had smiled upon seeing him and pulled him in a closer embrace. "Silly child, you play with forces you can't understand"

"I don't know what are you talking about, miss" Had denied Tim.

"Child" She had said while baring her teeth in what she thought it was a smile. "I see and read. You move like someone who has been trained by me"  
  
"That isn't possible" He remembers muttering. It might be a problem later.

She had laughed. "When you live in a world where earth's most powerful heroes are the self-proclaimed daughter of Zeus and an alien you stop asking questions like if it's possible."

"You don't believe in Wonder Woman?" He found himself asking curiously.

"I don't believe in higher powers"

"Okay" He simply said.

"Now we need to hone up those skills of yours, you're getting rusty." After that it was never mentioned Tim's origins again and Tim doubted she would tell Ra's.

At least, he trusted her to.

Sometimes he would catch her looking at him weirdly, contemplating him and mesuring him. Probably if it wasn't for Cass's existence she would ask him to kill her.

That was another fact he had discovered. Cass was here, somewhere in the world roaming free and without any support; it concerned him. He decided that the moment his feet touched Gotham's soil he would send a tip to Bruce about her, no doubt he would allow her to continue like that.

It was like this that he spent a year of his life in Nanda Parvat, following a repeatitive routine of training, enjoying how the pain grounded him and kept him awake. He never once saw Damian, he was kept away from the areas where Damian could be and his teachers where according to Tim's needs so none of them taught Damian, but it wasn't hard to detect his presence in the base. He could see touches of him all around the place and it filled him with nostalgia even if they weren't in the better of terms.

He missed him.

But who he was becoming wouldn't help him. Wouldn't be a good influence, he was too afraid of himself to be confident or to be a guide. So he pretended to not to see a shadow watching him train, just as he pretended he wasn't putting extra effort when he sensed that pair of eyes on him.

One year and a half since he arrived he left Nanda Parvat for good. People were getting suspicious at the lack of a public face for Drake's Industries and he knew Bruce may be getting ansty too. He left quickly and removed himself from that little world he had carved in the lion's den under the vow of obedience when the time might come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just listened a lot of sad music to have the vibes for this. Specially the band Mother Mother.


	4. I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy Ducky is troubled by family, his brain doesn't compute.

If there wasn't something to fight for, does Timothy Drake have a reason to exist at all?

He wasn't a hero anymore and even when he was he felt like he was just pretending. Maybe he didn't have an heroic bone in his body; he could deal with it.

Truly, he had dealt with this all his life, so why worry about all this? He was already going nuts! If only his family could see him now. If only they knew.

But family was a concept that had begun to blur, he considered this world's Jason family after all.

_ He watched as Jason pointed to the painting in the wall of the museum and smiled brightly. The painting in itself made him feel nostalgic as it was a painting of the skyscrapers of Gotham and he couldn't help but wish he could fly again as Robin through the apartment buildings. Jason was just admiring the picture with wonder. _

_ "I like this one" Jason exclaimed. "One can really see the beauty of Gotham through this painting." _

_ "Yeah" Replied softly Tim. "Too bad that the bad things of Gotham mesure up the good." _

_ At that Jason punches him lightly in the arm. _

_ "Aw, what was that for?" He exclaimed indignantly.  _

_ "That was for being so gloomy." Explains the other boy while laughing. "Relax and enjoy the day." _

_ "Have you been reading Bruce's books again?" _

_ "Nah, he made an appointment for me for a therapist." _

_ "Really?" That was new, he had no way to know that he was seeing a therapist. _

_ "Yep, been seeing her for a while now." Jason adopts a serious tone. "I think you should see one" _

_ Tim freezes. No, Jason doesn't mean it like Dick did.  _

_ "What?" He spats and watches as Jason rushes an answer. _

_ "It's nothing about you," He says. "It's about the trauma about your parents death." _

_ "My parents...? I'm not traumatized!" And he bites down a shout at Jason's concerned eyes, he doesn't want to talk about this; didn't even need to. _

_ "Tim" The taller boy lets out "You never talk about them, and I have seen you having nightmares in our sleepover last week. Every time I say goodbye you look at me as if I was going to disappear." _

_ "I worry" He counters _

_ "Yeah, you do. My therapist says it might be abandonment issues." _

_ "You talk about me with other people!?" Now he is angry and doesn't even bother to hide it. _

_ "Nothing bad, I promise." Jason says while flinching. "Just...we talked a bit about people in my life and I commented about that. She asked me about your background and I gave her general information, like, how your parents travelled a lot and you were in a boarding school. That stuff." _

_ "I'm okay, Jason. I promise." He said and he meant it. _

_ "You know that you can tell me anything? You know that you're not alone, right?" Jason asked him concerned. _

_ "I know. How can I forget? You're Jason" _

_ "Yeah, that I am" Said confused the boy in question, it was really a pity that Tim couldn't tell him anything about the other world, where Jason was Tim's first hero and inspiration and how this Jason was the force that drove him away from being depressed. If he could just have told him all of this and poured his heart on how in both worlds he was a brother to him, then maybe his heart would feel as heavy as it was in a world without him.  _

_ But he didn't. _

_ Jason ran a hand through his hair and the confusion melted from his eyes into something fond. "Is that your way of saying that I'm a mother hen?" _

_ "You said it, not me" Tim feigned innocence. _

_ "Oi!" but he was laughing and seemed to drop the matter so Tim counted it as a win. "Just so you know, if you ever feel down or anything talk to me. I promise that we'll be alright." _

**"You promised we'd be alright"**

Tim snaps out of memory lane and focuses on what's in front of him. He is tired and his mind has been drifting a lot into the past and he knows it's a dangerous combination in this moment as he is getting lunch with Bruce and that itself is a feat as he only slept three hours last night.

More like waiting for Bruce to show up.

It's fine, it's a nice place that Bruce chose and the waitress gave him a cookie when she saw him alone. He counts it as a win.

He waits for a minute before a disheveled looking man arrives. “Tim!” he exclaims before sitting down across the table. “I can’t believe that you’re here”

To his credit, he really looks like it. He scans Tim’s face in search of something, probably injuries or sadness. Tim lets a little crack on his mask show and says. “Me neither, I never thought I would miss Gotham that much. I even missed the air!”

Bruce relaxes a little, shoulders loose and lips quirked. “It’s very polluted” He points out.

“I know!” He laughs a little and deliberately shows himself as someone open about his feelings. A scared homesick little kid that prefered to come back from his trip and the opportunity of being schooled while he travelled for…this. Whatever that is.

“Alfie misses you.” Bruce informs him softly and Tim almost can’t contain the mighty need of asking if  _ he  _ missed Tim.

“I know.” He looks down to his hands. “It’s been a little hectic this year and half.”

The man’s face softens. “It’s been hectic here too. I don’t know if you know but I adopted a girl, her name is Cassandra.”

Tim looks down, he knows it would come this moment and he was honestly he didn’t know how to deal with it even if he was the one that sent the tip to Bruce. So he says “Oh”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m replacing Jason in any way” He rushes to reassure. “I found her and...it wasn’t pretty, I wanted to give her a home.”

“I get it”

Bruce inhales deeply “I would like you to meet her”

Tim almost panics,  _ almost. _ He knew he would have to meet her sooner or later with galas and what not, but didn’t expect to meet her  _ that _ soon. Now he can’t stop playing scenarios where she reads him like a book and tells Bruce. He feels awful thinking about it, but he is already making plans to make her keep her mouth shut and it pains him having to think about manipulating his sister. Sadly, he has to if he wants to succeed. “Of course, I would love to meet her” 

Bruce smiles and Tim knows it brings him relief from the fact that he accepted although he doesn’t know why exactly, he is just his dead son’s friend, not a son of his. He exiles that thought to the back of his mind like the bother it was.

The day he meets Cass goes a lot better than he expected, which it isn’t perfect but will do. He had woken up in his apartment and made himself a good cup of coffee, had read the newspaper and got dressed casually.

Nervousness wasn’t something new for him, he had had lots of it in his past life and this one.

He walked through the busy streets and called a taxi to take him to Wayne manor, ignoring the snort from the taxist at his request. He also got plenty of experience at ignoring things deliberately that it was laughable, but he will admit it was pretty funny the face the man made when the gates opened for them. Paying the taxi driver he found himself in front of the door.

The door of the manor looked as majestuous as always, from a rich brown color and little details that made it almost a work of art. The door opens before he can knock and his vision fills with Alfred, who looks at him with warmth in those brown eyes that made his heart ache, he also looks somehow much older and a little happier since his last visit.

“Hey, Alfred”

“Hello, mister Timothy. I would have waited for you to knock, but you seemed so enraptured by the door that I was afraid you would forget about us” Said Alfred with mirth in his eyes and a perfectly stoic expression that Tim found admirable and scary at thirteen. 

“It's beautiful” He defended himself weakly.

“Indeed it is. Now, come inside. Master Bruce and Miss Cassandra are waiting for you” Tim let himself be guided by Alfred’s gentle hand on his shoulder, he made himself look smaller than he really was and saw with regret how Alfred’s eyes became sadder. For him, he was just a little kid who had lost so much already that the prospect to meet someone new made him anxious and in some part he was right- he was anxious to meet Cass- just not for that reason.

He walked slowly to the living room where Cass was sitting in a burgundy loveseat with Bruce by her side. Cass perked up the moment Tim stepped a foot on the living room, eyes scanning him that reminded him of her mother. He smiled at her with a genuine timid smile and that set her at ease.

Cass just nodded, her face not betraying anything, her body language letting him know that she was okay with his presence. 

Bruce, who had watched the silent exchange with attention, smiled widely and delight gave a twinkle in his eyes that Tim had not seen in a very long time. “Tim, this is Cass.”

“Hello, Cass. It’s a pleasure to meet you” She blinked owlishly, nose wrinkling with distaste. “Ah, you don’t like pleasantries? Me too, small talk isn’t my forte.”

She gives him a tight lipped smile that meant the world for Tim. 

“Cass doesn’t talk” Bruce explains.

“That 's alright. Cass, do you want to watch a movie?”

She blinks again and then nods. They all ended up watching Disney movies like Dick tried to do with Tim back in the day.

He is aware that Cass saw right through him, but he also was aware that he showed her how much he actually cared for Bruce, Alfred and her. All in all, it should be enough to make her not see him like a menace. At least, he hopes.

Then Cass smiles at him again and all uncertainty goes away. She is his sister no matter what universe he is in. (He loves her a little more for this)

“Tim, you should stay for dinner,” Bruce says to him when he tried to go away in the afternoon. 

“I couldn’t intrude more, I already stayed for lunch.” 

“You are not an intruder” The man insists with so much conviction on his voice. “You never were and never will”

Tim blinks and lets out a breathy “Okay”. Internally wondering if he should be feeling so touched or if he should blame it on Bruce with his dad instincts.

Yuck, feelings, who needs them?

Tim didn’t, if he wanted to succeed he needed to be the kind of man Ra’s would like as an adversary and that kind of man had no time for family if he was in the pursuit of power.

“Sorry, Bruce” He apologizes earnestly. “But my uncle must be waiting for me”

Something sours in Bruce’s face, it’s disappointment mixed with worry. “Speaking of him, are you comfortable with him?”

“Yeah, I mean, not much has changed between us since the last time I saw you.” He shrugs, trying to convey relaxation and aloofness. “He’s an alright dude”

The man nods and tenseness bleeds out of his body. “I’m glad, Tim. I’m just worried about you being left alone so much time”

Tim bites down a smile, and tries to not laugh. Really? Now? When he isn’t his to care is the moment Bruce chooses to care about that?

(He knows he isn’t being fair. This isn’t his Bruce, this wasn’t the man who offered himself reluctantly as a father figure when Tim was in need of one and certainly wasn’t the man that hurt him deeply. Sadly, in his grief the two Bruces he knew were meshing together.)

“Well, don’t worry. I’m okay” He snapped.

“You would tell me if something were going on, right?” How much a man who wasn’t blood related to Jason is so similar to him, honestly? Not even his dad and he were quite like this. He had craved a connection like what Jason and Bruce had.

“Totally”

The thing about Tim is that he didn’t trust kindness, not really. It might be because of the stuff his mother had grilled into his brain, his natural distrust as a gothamite, his life experience or all of them.

Really. He wanted a break. And a nap, a nap would be nice.

He looks at the cat at the rooftop that is napping and feels jealous. Damn he wishes he could be that cat. 

Instead he is out on a winter night chilling to his bones while stalking someone who might not even be here, story of his life, really.

He is just doing some light stalking on Bruce and trying to track down Stephanie Brown. Damn, who would have thought she would be so unpredictable? Tim did. 

Stephanie was awesome like that, if Tim would have to describe her in one word would be that, "unpredictable". She is just slippery like that, you don't know how close she is to you until it's too late to shake her off. Yeah, maybe those analogies are not the best or the most flattering, but they made sense.

She made him young like he never felt before. Which was scary, in a good way, of course.

She also tended to overwhelm people if you weren't used to her, which Tim is not after having little to none contact before this whole dimension-travelling business and after. 

Before Tim can continue thinking about her he hears some footsteps and gets suspicious, because: it was winter, he was in a ROOFTOP so unless it was a vigilante it wouldn't make sense and he knew that they didn't patrol around here and it was 3 AM.

Should have begun for that. 

"Hey, are you a creep?" A familiar voice asked and Tim was presented before Stephanie Brown in all her blond wrathful glory.

Tim's mouth went dry as he stammered. "What? No!"

Steph tilts her head, she is not in a Spoiler get up, but it's close enough. "You are a kid"

Tim frowns, he doesn't know why she sounds mystified. "So are you"

"Yeah, but I'm a badass, so it's fine" He shrugs. 

"I could be badass"

"I see those muscles but you are also so tiny” She cackles as she says it. 

“You are just two inches taller”

She blews the raspberry. “Do you have to be such a killjoy?”

“Being who I am helps me to keep living.”

“Doubt that” Now she is moving, creeping closer to him and sits by his side. “I’m still alive and I’m not as boring as you. By the way, who says that?”

“I’m not boring! And you don’t know me!”

“I know enough” She gives him the side-eye “Your clothes are too nice for you not being a rich kid”

“So?”

“You know there are more ways to chase an adrenaline rush for your kind, right?”

Tim brings his legs closer to himself, trying to not to think of her as his Steph. “Are you judging me?”

“Maybe. Rich people do weird stuff but I’m honestly more curious about why are you here”

“You just said it. I’m an adrenaline junkie, remember?”

“No, if you were one you would do something fancy somewhere pretty” She says bitterly. “People like you try to spend the less time possible thinking about the truth about Gotham.”

“Yes, they do” He agreed.

Stephanie turns to him and looks at him weirdly. 

“What? Do I have something in my face?” He squeaks nervously, being around her is making him nervous.

“Why do you speak as if you weren’t one of them?”

“I don’t know… I just don’t want to be one of them”

“Why is that?” Her blue eyes take a peek at him.

“Why do you ask so many questions?"

“I’m curious. And bored, today’s has been no fun”

“Well, glad to be entertaining” He retorts. 

“Don’t get cranky and answer the question” The thing is that he could answer, but he doesn’t know what exactly to say. Doesn’t remember a conscious moment where he decided to be not like them.

He thinks about it and then a light bulb lit up in his head. He could use something that has happened here instead of what happened in his old universe, sobering up he begins. 

“I had a friend...Jason, he was great, and I’m telling you all this because there’s no way you haven’t seen this on the news. He used to live on the Narrows before Bruce Wayne took him in, went to my school and became friends with me. Even after being adopted people in galas would talk to him as if he were trash and after he died… everyone just kinda forgot that he ever existed.” At this point he is crying. “Or if they didn’t they were pitying him like if they hadn’t done anything and some kids in my class even kept trying to show me the video about him dying…”

Steph had in her eyes a look hard as stone. “Some people” she gritts out “are just assholes”

She stands up and walks to the door of the roof and looks at it like if she wanted to make holes in it with her eyes. Tim has rarely seen her this angry.

“Are you okay?” He asks shakily

“If I’m okay!?” Steph yells. “You are the one who just told me about your dead best friend and rich brats who are downright cruel! Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with rich people”

Tim snorts. "I'm one of them, and I don't know either. Might be as well the emotional constipation overcompensating"

Steph tilts her head, now calmer and visibly curious. "Constipated? That's a new one. Tell me more about stupid stuff rich people do."

He laughs and does so gleefully. They talk and laugh for a while, by the time they go separate ways he feels a lot lighter than days before. Today has been a good day, he realizes abruptly as he walks to his apartment, a very good day that he is almost afraid that it will be over. Afraid that the sinking feeling will come back once he opens his eyes the next day. Because the next day he will be crossing a line. Tomorrow by this very same time the Joker will be dead and a new one will be roaming around.

_ “If you want to succeed you need a new name” _ Was what Ra’s al Ghul had said.

And,

_ “Be my Joker. You were marked by him. YOU can be better than he ever was and erase the mark he left in the city.” _

Adding the most remarkable.

_ “Every king needs a queen, I can’t have one so I’ll settle with a Joker and the debt will be paid.” _

In the end nothing about it really mattered. Tim imagined Bruce, heartbroken upon discovering his acts would tell the people yet to come into the family the story of poor Timmy Drake and how he flew too recklessly and made a deal with the Devil, how a little kid lost it completely after his parent’s and best friend’s deaths. Which, uh, was kind of correct. Except that he has been losing it since longer than that. 

Beggars can’t be choosers and he doesn’t have what it takes to be remembered the way he wanted. Didn’t even know what he wanted to be his legacy like, just that he didn’t want to be a cautionary tale or another Joker.

No, he would be  _ more. So much more. _

“Is...is brother gone?”

“He wasn’t your brother Damian, he is your future weapon to yield.”

“Oh”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm not very good with deadlines and this was supposed to be posted before. Would anyone want to be a beta reader?


End file.
